Fear: The Story of Jonathan Crane
by Trick Steven
Summary: While in Arkham, the Scarecrow looks back at his life. Some memories, though, are best left forgotten.
1. Prologue: Inside Cell 666

Fear: The story of Jonathan Crane

By Trick Steven

_Author's note: Hello! Welcome to my first story here on Fanfiction. I've always thought that the Scarecrow was such an interesting character, so I decided to write a story about his life. Most of his past comes from the comics, but this story is the based off of the BTAS version of the Scarecrow. Also the Scarecrow and his grandmother belong to DC Comics._

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Prologue: Inside Cell #666

It was night at Arkham Asylum and not a sound was to be heard, except for the occasional screams and whimpers. The dim lighting cast long shadows on the cheerless concrete floor, making the hallways of the Asylum looking more depressed then it already was. There was one light, however, that was brighter then the rest. It came from cell #666, the cell that housed one of Arkham's most infamous patients, The Scarecrow.

Try as he might, Jonathan Crane couldn't go to sleep. He turned the light on to dispel the dark memories that were plaguing him that night. He risked punishment for leaving on the light at this late hour, but frankly he didn't care.

"_The worst they could do is_ _take away my T.V privileges. As if the crap they call food isn't punishment enough." _Thought Jonathan pessimistically. Despite the lone light bulb that filled his cell with a soft glow, the ghosts of his past still haunted him. It wasn't, however, that he felt guilty about his crimes that made him restless. It was his questions such as: If he made different choices in his life would he be here, a feared criminal of Gotham? Or did choices even matter, because no matter what he did he would still do the same thing? Jonathan decided to take this time to analyze his life, to step back and see things in 3rd person. After all, he did have a lot of time to look back on his life. That is, if he didn't escape Arkham first.


	2. Chapter 1:The crows in the field

Chapter 1: The crows in the field

His first memory that he could recall was when he was five years old. The sky was grey and the clouds were heavy with rain. He was standing next to a corn field with a small baseball bat in his hand, staring at a flock of birds. An unkindness of ravens were roosting in a nearby tree, cawing out to one another. Jonathan was edging closer to them, his baseball bat at the ready. As soon as he was close enough, he charged at them, yelling and waving his bat around. The ravens flew off, croaking at displeasure of having their conversation disrupted. Jonathan then sat on ground, smiling triumphantly. His favorite past-time was scaring birds. He loved how they flew straight away when he came at them. Satisfied, Jonathan looked around while his navy-blue overalls became tan with dust coming from a working tractor in the next field over. He was too busy relaxing that he didn't notice the cloud of black feathered birds coming straight at him. He looked up and screamed; a scream that was cut off by the sound of a hundred angry caws. He ducked and covered his head while the ravens screeched, tore, and pecked at his body. His fright paralyzed him, but he knew he had to escape. Jonathan gathered up his courage and got up in a crouching position. Without a moment's hesitation, he burst through the ranks of birds and ran faster then he had ever done before. He knew he had to reach his Grandma's house, knowing that it was his sanctuary. He ran into the golden field of corn and looked back. The mass of dark feathers were still following, shrieking out their murderous intent. His Grandmother's house was about a quarter of a mile away, but already he felt tired. The only thing that kept him going was his fear; the fear of being killed by hundreds of sharp, cruel beaks. Jonathan could see his Grandmother's yellow house in the distance, like a beacon of hope. His small legs gave an extra burst of energy but soon he slowed down, panting heavily. His legs gave out from beneath him and he fell into the dirt. He struggled to get up but he felt too weak to continue running. He saw the flock of ravens closing in on him and then everything went black.

Jonathan woke up on a worn green and white striped sofa. He looked around alarmed but then relaxed. He recognized the crucifix hanging on top of the doorway and the stacks of bibles on the bookshelf. He was in his Grandmother's house. He got up and noticed the nicks and scratches on his arms and face. He knew it could've been much worse. He then walked over to the window and nervously peered outside. Not a single bird was to be seen. Jonathan sighed in relief and went upstairs to see what his grandma was up to.

As he approached her room, he heard her wizened voice saying, "It's just so strange. I never saw crows actin' like that before. Luckily I found Johnny before they could do real damage to 'im."

She paused and then replied, "Well, they wouldn't leave him alone, 'till I shot at 'em." Another pause. "Ya well you be careful Mary. Bye to you too."

He heard her hang up and move toward the door. She opened the door and Jonathan looked up at her. Her wrinkled face and blue eyes showed concern and she asked him, "You feel better Johnny?"

Jonathan thought about what happened today and began to cry in fright.

"I was so scared Grandma!" He chocked out.

His Grandmother felt a wave of sympathy for her grandson and bent down to comfort him.

"Everything is gonna to be alright. I promise."

From that day onward, Jonathan never scared a bird again. Whenever a flock of birds roosted nearby, he would nervously walk away and play some where else. That day was firmly rooted in his mind and he never out grew his fear of birds.

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_Author's Note: I know that Jonathan seems very, well… un-Scarecrow like. But all little kids are some what cute and innocent, so I don't expect Jonathan to be any different at that age._


	3. Chapter 2: A Grandmother's hatred

Chapter 2: A Grandmother's hatred

Jonathan would later say that his grandmother was one of the many people he despised. Yet for a few short years that wasn't true. As a young child, his grandmother was the one who kissed his scraped knee to make it feel better or made him feel happy on a gloomy day. She was always kind and understanding. But ever since his sixth birthday, her mental health began to rapidly deteriorate. While Jonathan's grandmother was always a deeply devoted Christian, she soon began to obsess over the Bible. Even the Minister at the church they attended was worried. Jonathan wasn't too sure, though, if it was his grandmother's state of mind and her new found fanaticism or because of The Letter that sparked within her a life-lasting hatred of him.

It was a typical hot summer day when The Letter came. It was towards the last few days of school and Jonathan was walking back to his grandma's house after a long day of Kindergarten. At school, a couple of kids teased him at recess when he wouldn't go any closer then ten feet next to a flock of ravens that were perching in a nearby elm tree. The teasing wasn't particularly hurtful, so he shrugged it off and went off to play on the monkey bars. After recess, the class gathered on the worn carpet of room 318 and heard Ms. Leon, their teacher, read The Velveteen Rabbit out loud. Jonathan remembered liking the book very much and he was still thinking of the stuffed rabbit when he walked on the side of the road, past the tall golden cornfields of his town. His small rucksack was fitted over his shoulders and he was swinging his tin lunchbox, humming a song that he learned in class after naptime. The rural road was empty, save a few cars that drove by occasionally. Soon Jonathan came to a dirt path that led to some farms and his house. He walked down the path, stopping at times to observe the livestock that were grazing on the grass. He then reached the yellow-roofed house that he called home. He went up the steps and past his grandmother's rocking chair that was creaking slowly on the porch. He opened the screen door and went in, careful to close the door gently since he knew his grandmother hated it when he slammed it shut. Jonathan placed his rucksack and lunchbox on the counter and sat at the table to draw. He had to move some of the bibles that were crowded on the mahogany table and he placed them in neat piles at the corner. He looked up when he heard a familiar creaking sound from the stairs.

"Hello Grandma!" greeted Jonathan enthusiastically when he saw his grandmother coming down the stairs. He got up and came over to her once she was at the bottom of the stairs.

He was about to hug her but before he could, she held out a hand to stop him and asked sternly, "Why are all the bibles all over the table?"

Jonathan looked back at the table and saw that he didn't stack all the bibles and said in his defense, "Well, they were like that when I got there."

"No they weren't. I placed 'em in the bookshelf this morning," Replied his grandmother, who pointed her boney finger to the obviously overfilled shelf.

In fact, it was so overcrowded with various knickknacks of crosses, painted crucifixes, and other religious items that it looked like it was going to collapse at any moment.

"But Grandma, you couldn't have put all that books in the shelf, it's too-"started Jonathan.

He was quickly cut off by his grandmother saying in an authoritive tone,

"Could you please put the bibles back in the shelf like you found them?" She then walked out the door, shutting the screen door harshly behind her.

Jonathan sighed and walked back to the table and picked up the books. He walked to the bookshelf and began to take the various knickknacks down and replacing them with the bibles. Once all the bibles were in place, he looked around the living room to see where he could put the former occupants of the bookshelf. He saw a drawer in the corner of the room and stuffed all the knickknacks in it. Jonathan knew that his grandmother would be upset with him if she found out that he crammed her things in the drawer, but her punishment for not doing what she asked him to do would be far greater. To Jonathan, it seemed that his grandmother's tolerance level seemed to be diminishing each day. Although she was always a bit strict, she was also kind and understanding. That was until a couple of months ago. Jonathan was too young to know about dementia or other mental illnesses, but he knew that something was amiss with his grandma. He just wished that what ever made her change would go away.

He was sitting on the sofa, reading a book for homework when his grandmother came back. She was holding a stack of mail in one hand while holding the door with the other. Jonathan put his book down and went to help his grandmother. He held the door for her and she went inside. She said nothing to Jonathan and went to the table to sort out her mail. Jonathan sat back down on the sofa but he didn't go back to reading his book. Instead he was studying his grandmother's face. She had a particular look on her face while she was reading an envelope in her hand. To him, it looked like she was approving of whatever she was reading on the envelope, yet at the same time she looked a little melancholy. It was like she was remembering something from long ago. She delicately opened the top of the envelope and took out the letter. Jonathan saw her eyes scan the letter and she was mouthing mutely some of the words. What scared him though, was the transformation of his grandmother's face. She had gone from a melancholy look to outright fury in her small squinty eyes of hers. She balled up the letter in her fist and was shaking in anger.

"How dare she! I raised her son for six years and this is how she repays me!" shouted his grandmother.

She looked at Jonathan and then ordered, "Come here!"

Jonathan was a bit reluctant to come over, knowing that whatever his grandmother was going to do to him wasn't going to be good. He made his way to his grandmother's side and stood still, unsure of what was going to happen next.

His grandmother grabbed his wrist hard and hissed, "Remember this Jonathan; your mother is a whore. A filthy, lecherous whore!"

Jonathan nodded to appease his grandmother. The fact was, he never heard much about his mother. All he knew about her was that she left him with his grandmother when he was just a baby.

"Your mother was and still is filled to the brim with her sins. You, Jonathan were born from her sins. You must repent not only for your sins but your mother's as well," Stated his grandmother with sudden calm in her voice.

The change in her temper made Jonathan regard his grandmother warily. He had a very bad feeling that she was planning something terrible.

His grandmother got up and dragged him by his wrist to their yard. Jonathan couldn't help but whimper in pain. He felt like his wrist was going to snap in half. The once flower filled yard was now choked with weeds. Next to the peeling white picket fence was a large round metal tub. Jonathan's grandmother let go of his wrist and began to hose the tub, filling it up with water. Jonathan rubbed his sore wrist as he watched her, wondering what she was planning to do. Once she filled the tub with water, she called Jonathan over and instructed him to kneel in front of the tub.

He did as she asked him and she instructed, "Repent to the Lord, Jonathan."

Jonathan pressed his hands together in prayer and said humbly, "Lord I am sorry. Please forgive me for my sins." He looked up at grandmother, but then his head was pushed down into the water. He gasped for air and tried to lift his head but found out that his grandmother was pressing his head into the water and wouldn't let go. Before he ran out of air, his head was pulled back to the air.

He coughed and sputtered, while his grandmother said threateningly, "Be more sincere this time."

Jonathan began again, "My Lord, I am really, really sorry. Please forgive me because I'm very sinful." His head was pushed back into the water for a longer time. He felt like his lungs were going to burst. When his grandmother pulled his head out from the water, he was crying.

"This isn't a joke!" shouted his grandmother, shaking Jonathan.

"I'm not laughing!" choked out Jonathan.

His grandmother narrowed her eyes to what in her view, was her grandson's insolence. She lowered Jonathan's head close to the water and he began to sob.

"No, no, please! I'm sorry my mother is a whore! I'm sorry!" he cried out, before his head was plunged back into the water.

His grandmother kept his punishment going until late in the day. Jonathan felt hurt, both physically and emotionally. He didn't understand what he did to ignite his grandmother's anger. What he did know, however, was that he was at her mercy, no matter what her condition was. Jonathan wished he could say that was the only time he was abused by his grandmother. It was, unfortunately for him, only the beginning.

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_Author's notes: This chapter is more or less an introduction of Jonathan's abuse from his grandmother. As for The Letter, I'll post it in a later chapter. I thank you all for your reviews, it helps me feel motivated. _


	4. Chapter 4: Meeting the Devil

Chapter 4: Meeting the Devil

Jonathan never liked Bo. In fact, he doubted that there ever was a time when he didn't want to strangle Bo's beefy neck. Unfortunately for Jonathan, he never had the opportunity to kill off Bo before the bully did some life-altering changes to his psyche, thanks to the years of both verbal and psychical abuse. But, the truth of the matter was that he should have murdered Bo the first time he saw him, all those years ago.

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"Benjamin?" 

"Here!"

"Brickmen?"

"Present."

"Crane?"

"Here," said Jonathan to roll-call, not looking up as he continued to read a paper-back edition of "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow".

His teacher, Mrs. Jenkins, frowned slightly at Jonathan's inattentiveness but continued to read down the list of her students.

Once roll call was over, Mrs. Jenkins adjusted her black-framed glasses, cleared her throat, and announced to the class, "I would like to welcome our newest student, Bo Griggs."

There was a long period of silence following the teacher's announcement with the new student no where in sight.

"Bo?," asked Mrs. Jenkins with slight impatience in her voice, "Why don't you come to the front and say hello to your new classmates?"

There was the sound of a chair being scraped against the floor as Bo came trudging from the back of the classroom up to the front.

"Hi, I'm Bo. I didn't want to come here, but my dad's work forced him to go and live in this stupid town, so that's why I'm here," announced Bo, not making an effort to hide the contempt he had for his fellow classmates in his voice.

"Really? What kind of work does your father do?" asked Mrs. Jenkins, who was trying her best to make Bo feel comfortable.

"Construction." Said Bo simply.

"Oh…how...um… very nice," said the teacher, followed by an awkward pause.

"Can I sit down now?" asked Bo impatiently.

"Yes, of course," said Mrs. Jenkins, gesturing to Bo's row at the back of the classroom.

Once Bo was seated, the teacher then announced, "All right children, please take out your math textbooks and turn to page 231."

After one grueling hour of math and one pleasant hour of history, it was finally time for recess. The kids stampeded out of the bungalow once the bell rung and the sound of laughter filled the air. Jonathan however, wasn't as eager as the other children to go out and play. He didn't like to play tag or take turns playing four-square like other kids his age did. In fact, what he liked to do most of all during recess was read. Jonathan's peers thought of him as an oddball, so they mostly ignored him after his repeated refusals when they offered him to play. Being alone was alright with Jonathan and one of his favorite spots to read was under a secluded oak tree in the back of the school's field. With his old rucksack slung on one shoulder and with "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow" under one arm, Jonathan was all set to go to his reading spot.

He was about to step out of the empty bungalow's front door but stopped when he heard Mrs. Jenkins call out, "Jonathan, could you stay for just a moment? I need to speak with you."

Jonathan was a bit disappointed to have his reading time shortened, but he knew that Mrs. Jenkins didn't talk to him about trivial matters so he nodded and took a seat next to his teacher's desk.

"Jonathan, I wanted to talk to you about Wednesday's parent-teacher conferences. I didn't see your grandmother. Why is that?" asked Mrs. Jenkins as she stopped sorting out papers and looked at him.

"She was busy," replied Jonathan.

'_Of course she was busy. She has to be because her grandson is full of sin; sin that she can only get rid of by a vigorous beating,' _thought Jonathan. He winced at the memory of the belt that had hit his chest and he subconsciously rubbed his ribcage where the bruises had formed.

He stopped when Mrs. Jenkins gave him an odd look.

Mrs. Jenkins then began with, "Well that is a shame. I did wish that she would come so that I could congratulate her on what a wonderful student her grandson is."

"Thank you," said Jonathan.

Mrs. Jenkins then gave one of her rare smiles and replied, "Jonathan, your one of the best students I have ever had. Your reading level is way above average for a ten year old and you excel in the other subjects as well. I just wished that your classmates had the same enthusiasm for learning as you do."

"Thank you Mrs. Jenkins," replied Jonathan, who smiled at the compliment that his teacher gave him. He rarely had gotten compliments from anyone, so what Mrs. Jenkins had said warmed his heart.

"Well I'm sorry to have kept you waiting Jonathan. You're welcomed to go now," Said Mrs. Jenkins, waving her hand toward the door.

Jonathan nodded his head and thanked her once again before walking out of the classroom.

Mrs. Jenkins continued to grade papers, but not before saying to herself, "That boy is going to go far in life, of that I'm sure of."

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Jonathan was sitting under the school's big oak tree, its branches providing just the right amount of shade and sunlight as he continued to read "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow". This place was the only place in the world that Jonathan could escape to no matter what had happened. It was a place that no one could ever touch, a place where no other child had claimed for himself; except for Jonathan. The secluded tree that was Jonathan's was nothing less then sacred to him and if he knew the meaning of the word back then he would've agreed. So imagine how upset he was when he looked up to see Bo's meaty face in front of him, sneering at him and the book that he was holding. Bo wasn't alone; two other boys were behind him, smiling like a pair of idiots at what seemed like an inside joke.

Jonathan didn't like the predatory way the boys were looking at him, so he asked, "Could you please go away? I'm trying to read."

"Why should we? This tree belongs to everyone right? I don't see your name on it," said Bo bossily as he leaned against the tree.

Jonathan sighed, knowing that Bo was going to be a hard person to get rid of so he said, "I can see that. But I would really like to read without anybody bothering me."

"Aw, really? So why don't I just get rid of that book your holding so that we're not bothering you anymore," replied Bo, smirking.

Bo's friends snickered in the background as Jonathan held the book against his chest defensively. Bo was able to pry the book from Jonathan's hands and he looked it over with arrogance plastered on his face.

"Books are for losers," said Bo.

"I bet you can't even read a book!" snapped Jonathan angrily as he got up.

Bo glared at Jonathan and growled, "Shut up!"

He then composed himself, smiled wickedly and told Jonathan, "Well if I can't read a book, then I don't need it."

Bo then threw the book on the grass and began to stomp on it viciously.

"Stop! That book isn't mine, it's the library's!" shouted Jonathan. He tried to grab the book but his hand had gotten stomped on and was pinned by Bo's oafishly large foot.

"Let go of me!" yelled Jonathan as he struggled to get his hand loose.

"Sure." said Bo.

He lifted his foot and Jonathan pulled his hand to his side, cradling it against his chest. He didn't see Bo's foot swing toward his face until he felt the impact of the blow. It sent Jonathan sprawling backwards and he let out a whimper of pain as he sat up holding his bloody nose. Bo and the other boys were laughing their heads off at the sight of Jonathan and for the first him in his life, he wanted to kill someone. Jonathan wished to twist Bo's head off and see if he would still be laughing. He clenched his fists in anger and was about to say some expletives directed at Bo and his cronies, but the bell rang, ending recess.

"Saved by the bell Crane," said Bo, who smirked victoriously at Jonathan.

"Come on you guys, let's go. Crane and his book need some alone time together," announced Bo as walked off with his friends, chuckling all the while.

As Jonathan saw Bo walk off he only thought of one thing, '_That sadistic __**bastard**__!' _

* * *

Logically, the local library never let Jonathan check out a single book ever again after seeing the "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow" in ruins, despite Jonathan's protests of innocence. All the more reason to hate Bo. Of course you maybe were wondering why Mrs. Jenkins never bothered to notice Jonathan's bloodied nose. It wasn't her fault; rather, Jonathan did whatever he could to hide his bruises and welts. He didn't want other people to fight his battles, he would endure whatever abuse he could so that the other wouldn't have the satisfaction of knowing that he had someone to help him. So he endured Bo's taunts and bulling for years. Children, Jonathan found out, were cruel creatures, despite what one person had said about them being persons of innocence. Whoever had said that must have never been a child to begin with. 


End file.
